


always her.

by kiaz24



Category: LGBTQ+ - Fandom, bisexual - Fandom, lesbian romance - Fandom
Genre: Bisexual, F/F, LGBTQ Themes, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29509773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiaz24/pseuds/kiaz24
Summary: i had lost the only person that truly understood me.i didn't know how to keep going.if you loved me, why did you leave me?i saw you everywhere,you haunted me.i couldn't leave you,so how could you leave me?





	1. PROLOGUE

I had a dream; it was the most memorable dream I had ever had. There was a large, open field, filled with sweet smelling flowers and the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. The hot sun beamed down on her tanned, glowing skin, and her brown eyes seems to glimmer in the sunlight. She looked relaxed. Her body was spread out in the long, green grass. Lying down next to her, I closed my eyes. I felt calm, the first time in a while. She turned to face me, a small smile playing on her lips. She took my hand and whispered in my ear.

I had another dream. There was another girl; she wasn't so beautiful this time. Her fearful eyes were filled with tears and her crimson blood smeared the once pretty, bright flowers. She smiled. Grimaced maybe. She wasn't happy, had she ever been happy? She looked frightened. I oddly felt her pain, her heartbreak. I felt it in the tips of my toes and up to my confused brain. Her eyes seemed dull in the pale moonlight; her translucent skin lacked warmth.

Her agony, her anger. It seemed familiar. Almost too familiar. Her limp body was surrounded in the grey grass; the night sky was too dark, the cool air too cool. Her body was too small.

"Help me" she cried. She cried and cried. I saw her eyes; did she know who she was?

I knew this girl.

I knew this girl.


	2. FAMILY

My family.

My stupid, perfect family.

There was me, my brother and my perfect parents. Harry was the model son, grade A student, home before curfew, simple love life. I wasn't an exception to this white-picket-fence family, never once scoring below an A in my exams. High school wasn't difficult at first for me, I was well liked and had a small but nice group of friends. I didn't used to think my life was controlled. I didn't even think that it was all planned out for me, by my family, my friends.

I loved my life, my small job in the quaint café on the corner of Berkley Street. I loved my co-workers, my boss and the kind customers.

I lived in an extremely small town, in the very corner of Florida. The summers were nice, the winters were awful. The town was filled with small-minded people, who all shared the same, medieval beliefs.

Being brought up around those beliefs was almost traumatic, being told day after day who I couldn't be, and that who I wanted to be wasn't acceptable. There was always unsolved murders in our small, coastal town. Drownings, stabbings, shooting, lynching's. The main theme that linked them all was that these people were innocent, to everyone but the people who did the killings and my whole town of course. Being gay, an African American, or having a non- American accent, or not speaking English put you as a target.

It definitely was traumatic.

No doubt about it.

I was the only one it seemed who always put two and two together, the murders and the conditions. It was always the people who were a minority in society. Nobody seemed suspicious.

Nobody.

But me.

Our town was infamous for the KKK, as the founding group originated from our very simple town; I can't say I'm proud of it. With all that said, everyone obviously knew who was taking these innocent lives, in secret, but in public it was never addressed. Nobody else seemed to care. Why didn't they care? They should care.

I had tried to bring it up, just to a few people. Usually, I was told to keep my mouth shut, and the subject was changed. I had grown bored with the shocked faces when I brought it up at family dinners, now I keep quiet.

Mostly.

There was a dinner a couple weeks back, a very fancy one, the type with the nice cutlery out. I had dressed in my best dress, and my family in their best outfits. When Grandad comes to town, it's usually like that. I liked Grandpa Joe when I was younger, but now I can't bear to be in the same room as him. I knew he was racist, homophobic, sexist, transphobic, from a young-ish age, but I never saw how deep that unnecessary hatred ran. I'm ashamed to say I'm related to that person.

"Have you seen the local news today Joe?" My mother scowled at me.

"Yes. What about it?" He asked with a mouthful of food in his mouth.

"There was a recent murder, just found last night. I just thought the conditions of it were suspicious" My mother's fork dropped onto her empty plate in shock. I felt everyone's eyes penetrate my skin; their icy glares made me shiver.

"Nothing was wrong with the murder, was there?"

"Well...yes. Look at who was murdered, it's wrong, you see that, don't you?" I pleaded with the rest of my family.

"Just eat your food" My mother told me, I looked over at my dad, his disappointed eyes refusing to meet my desperate ones.

"No, it's wrong"

"Stop thinking about it if you know what's good for you. You aren't one of them, are you?" My eyes threatened to release the tears they were holding. At that point, I knew I needed to leave that town and never come back.

If I knew what was good for me.


	3. ACCIDENT

A few years have passed since I lost my person. Her name was Alycia. I was utterly consumed with her being. Her laugh, her smile, her face, just her. Just her and I. She was my favourite person. Nobody else compared to her, nobody came close to her. Our love was that of fairy tales, I liked to think. I'm sure she would've agreed with me, I hoped she would've. The circumstances of our love were complicated, but our feelings were not. I loved her with my whole soul, I would've done anything for her.

Losing her was the hardest thing I had ever endured.

It was the middle of July. Prime house party season. Devastating car crash. I still remember it so vividly, the blood, the buzz of alcohol in my system, the adrenaline rush. I remember when the car skidded off the road, when I felt her cold hand grip mine, almost telling me that we were going to be okay. I remember hearing everyone's screams, I remember the pain, the fear, the heat. I didn't like to talk or think about it, but I remember everything, I remember when the car finally stopped and I looked at her, at our intertwined hands.

Her life slipped from mine.

Her blood was wrapped around me.

After the crash, I still felt her around. I could still see her in our places, the kissing alley, the run-down park and the corner shop. Her presence comforted me. I felt at ease when I saw her, like when she would walk me home from school or let me ramble on about how much I hated my life. She was always a good pick me up, always brightening my mood after a long, hard day.

"I will wait for you"

People began to find out shortly after she started appearing. I don't remember much, I just remember seeing her everywhere, telling me to do things, which I did, for her. She talked to me a lot. It kept me sane, kept my demons at bay. But I lost a few months of my life, and I can't seem to get it back...

"You're going to be okay" That's what I heard many times a day in the hospital. I was never told what was wrong with me.

"You'll be okay" Every day. For many weeks.

"I'm still here for you" That voice, that all so familiar is what got me through.

"I will wait for you" I basked in that voice; it was enough to keep my shattered heart beating.

Deep, deep, deep down I knew she had actually died, I saw the body, the wreck. I knew she wasn't here. But I didn't like to face that, I liked to think she was with me, keeping me going. I wanted to believe that she was still with me, still guiding me through my tough patches. Her voice, her face, made me cling onto that hope that I grabbed with all of my strength. What nobody understood is that she knew something about me, the part of myself I hated the most. She knew, and she still loved me. For that, I felt like I owed her something, a part of me, a part of me to live on in. You don't know what it's like to find your love and to lose her.

Alycia.

Alycia.

Alycia.

After the accident, I was left in the hospital for a few weeks, to recover mentally and physically. I wasn't allowed to see anyone else who was in the car. The driver had been arrested due to his alcohol levels and everyone else was questioned for hours. I answered every question, so I could see her. I hadn't been told what had happened. They said complications from head trauma, but I didn't believe that, she had to be fine.

I was allowed to see her body a few days after I had been told the news. I had kicked and screamed, they gave in and let me say goodbye.

Pale.

Cold.

It couldn't have been her; she always had the nicest, softest skin. Her flowing hair was always so shiny, it now was dull. It didn't look like her anymore, and I didn't feel like me anymore. Her body was sprawled across the cold, metal slab. As soon as I saw her, I felt sick to my stomach, the pit settling in once again. I couldn't shake that pit for a while, and I never truly knew why.

Her funeral was dull. It didn't suit who she was. The swarm of black, the boring music. My speech fit right in, boring, uneventful, and dull. If I'm being honest, my speech didn't feel like I wrote it, as most of my feelings and emotions for the dead girl had to be held back, leaving a blank slab for me to work on.

"She was a bright soul"

"She picked me up when I was feeling lost"

"I will remember her for the rest of time"

I should've added more into it.

I'm sorry.

Her family never spoke to me again; they acted like I never existed. I was close to her parents before the accident, they were like my second family. My family acted like she never existed, they never spoke her name, or acknowledged what we had. It broke my heart more than I cared to admit. I should've spoken out more.

I'm sorry.

You deserved better.


	4. SCHOOL

Starting school again after what had happened was hard, people blamed me, people blamed the driver, and people blamed fate. When you're grieving, people seem to want to blame someone, and not themselves.

I took the majority of the blame, I felt guilty. If it weren't for me, we wouldn't have been at the party and she wouldn't have been in the car. As I got older, I began to realise that I wasn't fully to blame, I wasn't the drunk driver, and I didn't pretend to be sober. That made her loss a little easier, a little, not a lot.

Once you find your person, who understands you completely, and you them, it's hard to let go. I did eventually, but it took a very long time. I tried to go to therapy, and I tried to talk to people. I wasn't a very expressive person, I tended to keep things locked away. Therapy didn't work. I don't think I worked again; my body was on auto pilot constantly.

The first day of school was difficult, with the apologetic glances or the evil eyes. Teachers often took pity on me, and students always avoided the girl with the broken smile. My classes were either uneventful or too busy, never nicely in between. I hated school, which was odd, as before I always loved the environment. I had changed hugely, and I wasn't sure if it was for the better or not...

I rarely went to school after the awful first day, I either spent my days hiding out at home or wandering the small, pitiful town. I used to get comments from the older people who resided in town, it didn't hurt my feelings much, as I didn't really feel at all at that part of my life.

"You're an outcast"

"Who do you think you are?"

"You can't feel that way"

I was always odd, in many senses of the word, but I never truly minded. I just wanted to love, and I got to, but it was always in private. That also didn't bother me, because I got my time to be adored, and so did others. Just the conditions were different, and the prejudice real.

Being an outcast in a town full of boring souls was too distressing for me to cope with.

I just didn't know how to keep going without her.

I showed up at school once before the Christmas break, only 5 months after the accident. It was awful. How can people be so happy around the loneliest time of year? I had a few good friends, who always stuck by me, but they weren't her. They didn't have the same effect as she did. It's sad, looking back, but I was sad, and I can't change that.

"Are you okay?"

"Can I get you anything?"

"Aren't you going to eat?"

I was asked those questions on a regular basis, but how does one answer them? Usually, a nod in their vague direction sufficed, and then the talk about boys started up again. Don't get me wrong, I knew a good-looking guy when I saw one, and I didn't mind to talk the talk, but in that particular moment I could think of nothing worse to gossip about.

From the minute I walked into a room, or joined up with my friends after a long, boring lesson, chatter would usually die down, and stares were served my way. I didn't mind, I would've stared at me too.

There was one person though, who understood my anger, my pain. That was Jax, he was in the car and he also lost someone that day. We weren't very close, I for one being an outcast while he fit right in with the crowd. After the accident, he never got the stares, the blame, or the pity. He got the normalcy, and for that I pitied him. I thought that he never got to truly mourn her death, as he, she and I were quite close as kids, and I knew he didn't forget about us. Jax's life seemed complex, with a huge future looming over him, I could relate to him, in private of course. Nobody wanted to be seen with the murderer.

"Hey" His face, so familiar yet so distant. He always looked friendly. But nobody knew what hid behind the façade.

"Hi" He perched next to me, his whole-body tense. His eyes sad.

"How are you doing?" He asked me, in return I nodded.

"How are you?" I asked him. But does anyone answer that question honestly?

"I don't know how to be" He put it simply, but I could see, who couldn't, that behind his eyes there was a lot of anger, and pain, and grief.

"I get that...I really do" After that there was silence, he sat still beside me, just observing the world. In that moment, nothing else really mattered but his presence next to mine. For the first time in a while, I didn't feel completely alone, and it was nice, but short lived.

"I don't blame you; you know? You didn't kill her" He whispered to me, almost like the words burnt his tongue.

"Thanks" I didn't know what to say.

"I really don't. People are wrong to blame you. I'm sorry for what happened" I frowned.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Isn't that what people say?" I laughed lightly.

"Yes. Yes, they do."


	5. LOSS

Joe had died early January.  
I had expected to feel a sense of sadness, grief. Is it wrong, that in some twisted way, I almost felt relieved? Don't get me wrong, I loved Joe, he was family, but I finally didn't have his hot breath breathing down my neck about who I was.  
He died of a short-term illness, I never saw him before he died, I didn't get to say goodbye. Even if I hated that man, he was my grandfather, and I always seemed to want some closure, some acceptance.  
That, I never got.  
My family were distraught, breaking into tears at any given time. My mother, father and brother grieved very deeply. You could see how devastated they felt, and how much the death took a toll on them.  
I didn't feel anything.  
Nothing.  
I hated myself that I couldn't even mourn a loss correctly. I shed no tears, felt no remorse, and kept my head above water while everyone was sinking. The relationship me and Joe had was very complicated, we just didn't click, we just weren't close. We rarely talked and we had completely different views.  
Is it normal that we just didn't understand each other?  
His funeral was like any other funeral, the ocean of black, the sad speeches, the red, blotched faces. Everyone mourned the same, everyone felt the same.  
Everyone.  
But me.  
After his funeral I maybe expected the world to stop spinning, for events to stop and for people to mourn. For my family, that did happen, birthdays were disrupted, and feelings confused. In the midst of everything, for me, life just seemed to carry on. The memory of my grandfather never plagued my thoughts and the pain never arrived. The guilt, for not feeling it, always showed up, making me realise how much of a monster I was, a psychopath, inhuman. I knew I could feel some sort of pain, after enduring a loss several months prior, maybe it was Joe's actions that skewed my course of grief, or maybe I had had enough, maybe I had given up?  
"What did I do to deserve this life?" My thoughts were plagued by deep, shrouded guilt. Guilt for not feeling some type of way for him.  
"How did I screw up this bad?" Yet no tears came, no pang of grief came.  
"Alycia, what do I do?"  
"Help me".  
"Why did you leave me, please!"  
I liked to think that she was always looking over me, out for me. I liked to believe that she was proud of me and that she held me through my stormy nights. I liked to think she still loved me, from beyond the grave.  
I had held so much unresolved pain from her death, I never truly gave myself time to get over her. I didn't want to, I kept her alive in my head so I could survive, so I could keep myself from falling under.  
"Alycia"  
"Alycia"  
"Alycia"  
I had begun to chant it, when I needed strength, when I needed help, when I needed her. It merely helped me keep my body and soul together.  
At what point did I stop living?  
And just started surviving?


	6. ALLEGATIONS

Jax had come and gone from time to time, talking to me in private, never acknowledging me in public. I didn't mind, at least he tried. He never brought her up again, never told me he was sorry, or told me I wasn't to blame. Maybe he changed his mind; maybe he thought I really did kill her? I didn't mind, after all, it's what everyone thought.  
Sometimes, he would nod at me in the school hallways, a secret code almost. He never asked how I was, or if I was okay. He knew I wasn't, and neither was he. We left it at that, we reminisced over our childhood or complained about exams, almost like normal kids. Except, we weren't normal. We had a huge secret on our shoulders, and our lives almost ruined by the accident.  
My reputation was gone, down the drain. In the whole town, one person truly believed in me. My family never said it to my face, but I knew what they thought, that's why they didn't really talk to me when I was younger. I saw them at home, but dinner time was awkward, until I finished and continued hiding under my duvet. The chatter could begin once I was gone, and I could hear them all downstairs. It used to make me cry, but after a while it didn't bother me. After all, who wants to be related to a criminal?  
There was an annual carnival, down by the river. Once every year, bright lights, merry go rounds, and candy floss would attack our town for a week. I used to love it. Sitting on the big wheel with my people, getting high of candy. This year, this year was different, the hot summers breeze was too hot, the candy floss too sweet. Even though I did attend, it felt different, and I'm not sure if the old feeling ever came back.  
Mia and I partnered up for the rides, the rest of my group also split into twos, it was always Mia and I in the past, and I don't think she minded, I could've been wrong...  
I saw Jax at one point, he gave me a little wave when nobody was looking and then he was dragged away by his friends. In his eyes, I could see he wasn't enjoying it as much as he used to. Maybe it was because he was getting older, or maybe it just was the circumstances of the past year.  
The whole town must've attended on that particular night, and the atmosphere seemed too stuffy, too crowded. Queues for the rides were miles long, and the music blared too loudly. Towards the end of the night there was always a speech, thanking people for their hard work throughout the year. The mayor would give a short speech and then everyone would be on their merry way home.  
At least I thought it would be that simple.  
At least I thought I could fly under the radar.  
"Good evening!" The mayor's voice boomed. A chorus of welcoming and cheers were heard in response.  
"I have a special guest speaker tonight!" I frowned; this had never happened in the past. I recognised who was padding up to the podium. Not her, anyone but her.  
"Hello everyone!" She cheered.  
"I'm here to say a few words about our dear departed friend, Alycia" Her eyes seemed to scan the wild crowd, before she landed on my wide eyes, frantically searching for a way out,  
"I'm sure many know who she was, and how she died. I'm not sure you know the full story yet" She sent a smirk my way.  
I knew what was coming.  
I knew what she had planned.  
I tried to run, get away, but my feet were frozen to the ground, almost like the Earth was punishing me for killing her. Pushing me to my fate.  
"There's one person who knows the full story, but I won't get her to join me tonight, I'll tell the story for her. You all know there was a crash, a dreadful crash that took our best and brightest. Well, I'm sure you don't know how the car crashed, and it wasn't to do with the drunk driver."  
Her eyes met mine.  
I knew.  
I knew.  
"It was HER" Her finger pointed to me; a million sets of eyes burned into my head.  
"She cut the brakes, she wanted to kill Alycia because she knew something she shouldn't have" I couldn't seem to find the air to breathe. I couldn't look from her eyes. Yet, after all of that, I couldn't find a reason to blame her; after all it was my fault.  
"Alycia knew a big bad secret" She sung out; an evil look plastered on her face.  
"SHE, HER right there, SHE loved Alycia, and not in a friendly way, in a deeper, stronger way" People seemed to get what she was hinting at, the whole town grew silent, all eyes on the outcast.  
I couldn't remove my eyes from her.  
Her.  
Her.  
Her.  
I can't remember much before I felt the cold metal wrap around my wrists, confirming my guilt. Being pushed into the back of a police car is all I recalled before I saw the face of Jax, he knew the truth, and I saw something. His face held that of a promise, like he almost promised to free me, to tell the world the truth.  
Like I said... almost.


End file.
